


Every Leaf Speaks Bliss

by alutiv



Series: Four Seasons [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Autumn, Established Relationship, Love, M/M, Three-Flat Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alutiv/pseuds/alutiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The air is crisp and cool in the early evening, and the evening comes earlier each day.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [in the gardens and the graves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/968291) by [alutiv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alutiv/pseuds/alutiv). 



The air is crisp and cool in the early evening, and the evening comes earlier each day. In full sun, the trees blaze red and orange and yellow, but the colours are subdued, now, in the darkening just after dusk. Fallen leaves, dry and drifting, crunch beneath their feet. 

John has his oatmeal jumper on, the same one he was wearing that first time he showed up, limping after Sherlock, at Greg’s crime scene. John has started making noises about getting rid of it, and it _is_ getting tatty, fraying at the cuffs and unraveling in a spot where the left sleeve snagged on a rough brick wall last May. It was Greg’s fault, John would be quick to remind him, since it was Greg who pushed him up against that wall, somewhere between their flat and their second-favourite pub. Not that John would complain about it, not really. His jumper wasn’t the only piece of clothing damaged that day; being on his knees in an alley hadn’t done Greg’s trousers any good, either. 

Come to think of it, that pub might just be Greg’s favourite, after all. 

John turns, catches Greg’s eye and his smile, grins back at him. “You look happy.” 

“So do you.” 

John’s eyebrows draw in for a moment, then relax again. “You know what? I am.”


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as they get home, Greg drops onto the sofa. John heads for the kitchen to put the kettle on. When he returns, a steaming mug in each hand, Greg is dozing. 

Blinking awake, Greg takes his mug with a sleepy, “Thanks.” 

It’s not enough caffeine to keep him awake, so he catches nothing of _QI_ between the panelists’ introduction and Stephen Fry naming the winner. Some time in between, John stretched out on the sofa, his head pillowed on Greg’s thigh. 

_Newsnight_ begins. Greg cards a hand through John’s hair; he feels John’s smile through his jeans. His hand falls still as he drifts off to the sound of Jeremy Paxman. He’s half-asleep, thinks he might be dreaming, when John speaks, voice so low it’s almost lost. Greg tenses in surprise, John’s breath catches, and Greg knows it’s not a dream. 

”I love you, too, John." 

John sits up with a sigh. 

Greg leans in and kisses him, sweetly, softly, lingering as long as he can before he must pause to breathe. He rests his forehead against John’s and whispers, “We’re idiots, aren’t we?” 

“He always said we were.” 

Greg’s laughter bubbles up from somewhere deep inside. John dissolves into giggles, and they both fall back with ridiculous grins. John stands, takes Greg’s hand, and leads him to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

They say nothing for a long while. 

John unbuttons Greg’s shirt and strokes the exposed skin, his hands sure and strong. He leans in to press a kiss to a bared shoulder, to suck a mark over the collarbone. He trails kisses feather-light down to a nipple, swirls the tip of his tongue around the hardening flesh, catches it between his teeth. He is rewarded with a rumbling groan and a tightening of Greg’s grip at his waist. 

Drawing back, John pulls his jumper over his head. Before it’s even properly off, Greg is unfastening the buttons of the shirt underneath with nimble fingers, running his tongue over the shell of John’s ear, kissing his neck, murmuring, “Love, my love,” against his skin. 

There is a quick fumble as they both reach for the flies of the other’s jeans simultaneously, succeeding only in getting in each other’s way. Greg seals his lips over John’s in a kiss that quells their incipient laughter. Finally divested of jeans and pants and socks, Greg allows himself to be laid back on the bed, arms spread out to his sides, John straddling his hips and taking them both in hand. Delicious friction sends an electric jolt up his spine, followed by shivers at the way John breathes out, “Love, love, oh, love,” as he comes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the same (autumn) day as the third chapter of "[in the gardens and the graves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/968291)".
> 
> "Every leaf speaks bliss" is from "[Fall, leaves, fall](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/184507)" by Emily Brontë .
> 
> My thanks (as always) to LapOtter and corpsereviver2 for the Three-Flat Problem format. And my thanks to all of you for reading!


End file.
